


The Vixen and the Huntress

by persephoneggsy



Series: FemRhack Fics [9]
Category: Borderlands (Video Games)
Genre: Amputation, Animal Transformation, Cunnilingus, Domestic Fluff, F/F, Fem!Handsome Jack - Freeform, Fem!Rhys, Fluff and Smut, Fox Shifter Rhys, Genderbending, Huntress Jack, Inspired by Folktales, Kissing, Large Breasts, Lesbian Sex, Nipple Play, Older Woman/Younger Woman, Tribadism, Vaginal Fingering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-25
Updated: 2020-05-25
Packaged: 2021-03-03 01:14:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,577
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24376348
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/persephoneggsy/pseuds/persephoneggsy
Summary: In which Jack, a huntress, finds a wounded fox in the forest. Rather than putting the poor thing out of its misery, and at the insistence of Jack's daughter, she tends to the fox's wounds and lets it rest in her home. Soon after this, she returns home one day and finds that the fox has turned into a beautiful young woman, who insists she repay Jack's kindness....... by becoming her wife.
Relationships: Handsome Jack/Rhys (Borderlands)
Series: FemRhack Fics [9]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1647343
Comments: 2
Kudos: 60





	The Vixen and the Huntress

**Author's Note:**

> this was written a while ago and i've only just gotten around to editing and posting it, but basically i drew a [Fox!FemRhys](https://twitter.com/persephoneggsy/status/1253882654178422785?s=20) and became obsessed with her
> 
> so i wrote this lol

* * *

Long ago, in a dense patch of wilderness beyond the shining city of Helios, there sat a modest hut with two occupants. A mother and her daughter – the mother a huntress, making a living for her and her child through the plentiful game that filled the forest that surrounded their home, and selling her catches to butchers and tanners in the city.

Jack was her name, and she was a woman of a different ilk; she’d been raised to hunt, and as such she was leagues better a shot than any knight in the king’s army. She had a brusque charm about her that attracted many a suitor, and a rude arrogance that drove off just as many. Her appearance brought some back – she was a striking beauty, though perhaps not through conventional means. Her strong jaw, always shorn-short hair, and toned body gave her an androgynous look. Even the jagged scar cutting an arc across her face only added to her appeal.

Alas, no suitor ever stood a chance with the huntress from the woods. No offer of gold, promises of a life of luxury, nor claim of prowess in bed could persuade her to leave behind her hut. She was happy, she claimed, and could care for her daughter perfectly well on her own.

The daughter, Angel, seemed content in their lives as well. A charming and precocious young girl of only eight summers, she was Jack’s pride and joy. Rumors abounded about the fate of the girl’s father, but neither she nor Jack ever gave any indication towards what was true and what was pure speculation. They existed in their own happy corner of the world, just the two of them, and that was that.

Until the day Jack found the fox.

The day began like any other – Jack woke up, had breakfast with Angel, and then set off for her daily hunt while her daughter was to practice her reading. She managed a few rabbits and even a pair of pheasants, to her satisfaction. A fairly common haul, but pheasants sold well this time of year, and the rabbit fur could be used to make Angel a new pair of gloves for the winter.

The sun was starting to set, so Jack began her trek home – when along the way, she heard a small whine.

She tensed, swiftly readying her bow. There was no immediate threat that she could see, but the whining continued, clearly an animal in pain.

Frowning, Jack kept her bow poised in front of her and slowly walked towards the noise. After several paces, she came upon the source.

A small brown fox lay at the base of a tree, curled up on itself. Judging by its size and smaller snout, it was vixen. Its coat was beautiful and glossy, save for the matted and tangled mess of blood on its right front arm. Some kind of wound was producing the blood, but it was too messy to be sure what. Jack would guess another animal, perhaps a wolf, had attacked the poor thing, though it somehow managed to get away.

Jack would call it a lucky fox, but it was clear it would die soon.

She put away her bow and considered the vixen. Clean the blood, and hers would be a truly fine pelt. She could hire the tanner in the city to make a stole for Angel – it would be a lovely birthday gift. Fox meat was a bit tough for cooking, but with a little preparation and some good side dishes, it could make a healthy meal.

Nodding to herself, Jack unsheathed her small dagger and knelt beside the fox. Best to give the poor creature a quick death –

Just as Jack brought the dagger closer, the vixen looked up – and directly into Jack’s eyes.

The huntress’s breath stopped. The fox had mismatched eyes, just like hers. But whereas Jack’s eyes were sky blue and forest green, the fox had eyes both of the deep sea and fresh soil.

Jack froze, finding herself unwilling to move now that the creature was looking at her. The vixen whimpered, shaking as it attempted to get on its feet – to flee, to fight, Jack wasn’t sure. But it was an effort made in vain. She collapsed moments after, weaker than before. She flicked her gaze up to Jack once more, but the creature seemed… defeated. Resigned to its fate.

Despite herself, Jack felt an overwhelming amount of pity for the vixen. Something about its eyes was so sad, so… almost human.

_ All the more reason to put it out of its misery,  _ spoke Jack’s more rational thoughts. Another voice, one that sounded suspiciously like her daughter, instead protested.  _ Help her,  _ it said.

Jack grimaced. Then, after a few moments, she sheathed her dagger with a sigh. She never could say no to Angel – imagined pleas or otherwise.

The vixen seemed to watch her carefully as she maneuvered out of her hunting cloak. She tensed when Jack wrapped it around her, but upon sensing that Jack did not mean to harm her, she relaxed.

Jack held the wrapped up fox as gingerly as she could manage in one arm, and gathered up her kills in the other. The vixen whimpered as she was jostled.

“Sorry,” the huntress murmured, only to feel embarrassed with her own concern. The fox couldn’t understand her. Vowing to remain silent for the rest of the journey home, Jack set off.

Though she did stay mindful of the way she carried the vixen the entire time.

The sun was well below the tree line when she finally arrived at her hut, the windows aglow with firelight. She nudged the door open and quickly deposited her kills on the small table beside the entrance. Angel was sitting by the fire, a book in her lap. She looked up upon hearing the door, and, seeing her mother, she offered a small smile. Then she noticed the mewing bundle in her mother’s arms.

“Ma?” Angel asked.

Jack walked to the dining table and carefully deposited the fox onto its surface. Angel had put her book away and stood, walking over to get a closer look.

She gasped upon seeing the fox, and the sizable blood stain that had leaked onto her mother’s cloak. She gave her mother a questioning glance.

“I found her curled under a tree,” answered Jack. “She was probably attacked by another predator.”

“And you brought her… home?”

“I…” Jack looked at the vixen, whose mismatched eyes seemed duller. “We’ll talk about it later. She needs help now.”

At that, Angel nodded, and immediately ran to fetch the healing supplies. Jack meanwhile unbundled the vixen, and gingerly took a hold of her leg. The vixen hissed at her, but in her state, could do little more than that.

Angel returned with the bandages, a box of healing herbs, and a bowl of water with a cloth. She carefully used the cloth to dab away the blood and clean the fur. With the leg cleaned, it was easier to see the jagged bite wound that was causing the vixen so much pain.

“Poor thing,” murmured Angel.

“Bite’s too severe. Probably infected,” observed Jack. “Even if it heals, she’ll have a limp the rest of her life. A painful one.”

Both Jack and Angel knew such a condition would leave the fox even more vulnerable. Jack might have just prolonged the inevitable, bringing her home rather than killing her out of mercy. She sighed to herself.

But then Angel, unexpectedly, piped up. “What if we removed the leg?”

Jack gave her daughter an incredulous stare. “That would just put her at risk. She’d have a harder time running from whatever attacked her on only three legs.”

“Not if she stays with us.”

“… What?”

“Why else would you bring her home?” asked Angel, who already began pulling the necessary herbs out of the box. Her daughter had a talent for healing, having learned from the medical books Jack brought home from the market. “You could’ve just left her there, or killed her for her pelt. But you didn’t.”

Jack blinked. “I…”

“You can tell me later,” Angel interrupted. “Help her, Ma. Please.”

And so, with little else to do with the young vixen’s life at stake… Jack did.

Angel made a soothing salve, which put the vixen to sleep, so she would not be conscious for what followed. Digging out a cleaver, Jack muttered a small apology to the blissfully unaware creature, and with a decisive strike, brought the blade down.

The vixen did little more than twitch.

Angel stepped in then, hurriedly applying the salve around the stump to ease the pain, then wrapped the stump in tight, clean linen bandages. The creature didn’t stir at all, so it was only the steady rise and fall of her torso that indicated she was even still breathing.

It was a quick process, and by the end, Jack felt reasonably sure the vixen would pull through. She wondered if the creature would be grateful for their efforts, or resentful of her new handicap.

Ah, well. It wasn’t like Jack would ever know.

She watched Angel softly stroke the vixen’s fur, relief evident in her daughter’s eyes. Despite her mother being a hunter, Angel was fond of animals, and it seemed the fox would be no exception. Angel glanced at Jack and gave her a smile.

Jack smiled back. She believed she owed her daughter an explanation.

* * *

The days passed unremarkably after that. The vixen remained unconscious for half a day, then awoke with a rather amusing start, were it not for the fact she nearly fell off the table. Thankfully, Angel’s homemade nest of blankets and old shirts prevented that. Then the creature was in a daze, induced by another homemade concoction of Angel’s. Finally, on the fourth day, the vixen’s senses seemed to return in full. She hobbled around the hunter’s home, wary at first of her new surroundings. But she clearly sensed no danger from either Jack or her daughter. She even grew comfortable in their presence.

Jack came home from a day’s hunt to find the fox curled in Angel’s lap as she read.

If they were to have a pet, she supposed the fox wasn’t a bad one. She was a gorgeous specimen, once she was cleaned up – silky brown fur with a white underbelly, black markings on her feet and tips of her ears. Her form was lean and elegant, even with her front right leg missing. She adapted well to the change – and Jack found herself growing fond of the little thing.

A fondness that seemed mutual. Whenever Jack came home, the vixen would hop out of Angel’s lap with a series of adorable yips and wind around Jack’s leg insistently until she was picked up. She would often sleep at the foot of Jack’s bed at night, and purred whenever Jack gave in and held her. Angel would comment jokingly that the vixen was in love with Jack for saving her life – a jest that Jack would in turn roll her eyes at.

It was no hardship to feed the fox, and her company proved non-disruptive and even enjoyable. Now Angel had someone home with her when Jack was out, and it was clear the young girl adored the young vixen.

In any case, it seemed their family of two had unwittingly expanded to three. But it was a small expansion that Jack could deal with. She was, after all, simply a fox.

Then one afternoon, Jack returned to the hut with her latest haul, and found not the new family pet, but a naked woman waiting for her.

Jack had her bow ready in an instant, her kills dropping unceremoniously to the floor as she narrowed her eyes at the intruder.

It was a young woman, whom Jack might’ve found beautiful in any other situation. She was wrapped in the blanket from Jack’s bed, seated at the table across from Angel, who… did not seem to be in any danger.

“Ma!” admonished Angel, jumping to her feet. The woman was frozen, staring at Jack with wide eyes. She was definitely strange – she had large fox-like ears on either side of her head where a normal human’s ears would be.

“Who the hell are you?” Jack questioned, drawing an arrow in threat. The woman blinked her wide, doe-like eyes… They were suspiciously familiar.

Deep sea blue and fresh soil brown.

Jack’s grip on her bow wavered. “What…?”

Angel came around the table and stood in front of the woman, which made Jack lower her weapon completely.

“Ma,” Angel began again, more calmly, “this… is Rhys. The vixen.”

A beat passed, silence reigning in the huntress’s hut.

Jack broke the silence. “I’m sorry, what?”

“Rhys is the fox we saved,” clarified Angel, in a tone of voice that implied she thought it was all very cut and dry. At Jack’s blank look, she sighed. “She’s a shifter, Ma!”

Shifters. Creatures from legend that could turn into any manner of beast.

“Angel…” Jack began slowly, keeping a wary eye on the woman – “Rhys”. She stared back, unnervingly quiet. “Shifters aren’t real. They’re fairytales.”

“But I saw her!” protested the child. “Rhys turned right in front of me and introduced herself! Can’t you do it again, Rhys?”

Angel turned to Rhys, who slowly nodded. She stood, pausing only when Jack twitched, clearly wanting to ready her weapon again. Then the young woman gave Jack a reassuring smile, which – which made Jack’s breath hitch. She truly was a beauty, her status as a stranger notwithstanding.

Rhys rolled her head and closed her eyes, dropping the blanket to the ground. Jack nearly choked, unready for the sudden eyeful of naked stranger – and it didn’t help that what she saw was gorgeous. And that she, apparently, had a fox’s tail as well as ears, and a missing right arm, just like the vixen.

But Jack didn’t have much time to dwell on the attractiveness of the stranger or her coincidental similarities with their pet fox – instead, a bright light overtook Rhys’s form, slowly shrinking and shifting, until the light dissipated, and in its place, was the very same brown vixen they rescued almost a fortnight ago. She blinked and Jack and tilted her head, and Angel smiled triumphantly at her bewildered mother.

“I told you so!”

“Uh.”

The vixen paced forwards, coming to stop in front of Jack. Then, there was another flash of light, and, much quicker than before, Rhys was before her again, smiling nervously.

“Hello,” she said, her voice soft and gentle. “It’s nice to properly meet you, Ma.”

Jack flinched. “What?”

“Oh,” Angel walked up to them. “I was just explaining to her before you came home – Ma isn’t her name, Rhys. I call her that because she’s my mother!”

“O-Oh,” a pink blush spread over the shifter’s face. “I’m sorry. Then…?”

Jack swallowed the lump in her throat and forced herself to speak. “J-Jack. I’m Jack.”

Rhys smiled at her again. “Hello, Jack.”

Oh, Lord above. With Rhys only a few inches from her, she could see only how beautiful the shifter really was – her fox features should’ve been distracting, but her fluffy ears and tail were somehow endearing, highlighting her features rather than detracting from them. A soft dusting of barely perceptible freckles was scattered across her nose, and, as Jack’s gaze went unwillingly downwards, also across the tops of her breasts.

Were Jack a younger woman, and her daughter not in the room, she’d take advantage of this situation.

Unfortunately, that wasn’t the case, so Jack quickly looked away and coughed. “H-Hello. Could you… please put some clothes on? Then we can, um, talk?”

Rhys blinked, but then Angel helpfully scooped the blanket off the ground and handed it back to her, also helping to drape it over the shifter’s shoulders, as she was rather hindered by her missing arm. Now that Rhys wasn’t nearly as distracting, the three of them sat back down. For what was undoubtedly to be the strangest conversation of Jack’s life.

According to Rhys, she’d been attacked by a member of her skulk; a male fox whose advances she’d spurned. Outraged, he bit her, but she managed to get away before he could do worse. Then she hobbled to the tree and resigned herself to her fate, when… Jack came along. And instead of killing her, like Rhys had expected, Jack saved her life, brought her into her home.

She would’ve transformed in front of them sooner, she’d said, but her strength was only just returning to her, and shifting took a lot of energy. At the very least, she said that she wasn’t upset about her lost arm – less to shift, and thus less effort on her part, she’d joked.

Now Rhys was apparently intent on repaying her debt to Jack, in whatever way she could. Though, the way she spoke, she seemed to already have something in mind.

“I don’t want to return to my skulk,” she admitted. “No doubt Hugo’s told them that I was attacked by a wolf or some other nonsense.”

“Aren’t they your family?” asked Jack. “Won’t you miss them?”

Rhys shrugged. “Most were pushing for me to mate with Hugo, regardless of what I wanted. No one else spoke up for me. I’m just as happy leaving them behind. I’d rather stay here, at any rate.”

Jack glanced at Angel. Her daughter was giving her a beseeching look. The older woman sighed.

“Looks like you’ve already got your place,” she said, knowing she wouldn’t say no to her daughter. And as… bizarre as this situation was, she didn’t think much would change. Feeding, it turned out, wouldn’t be any more an issue than it was before. Rhys shared the same dietary habits in her human form as she did in fox form, so the same food Jack was providing would suffice. Angel would still have someone to keep her company, though now someone who could actually have a conversation with her, which was arguably better.

“And I’m very good at keeping things tidy!” Rhys exclaimed happily, though she didn’t have to give reasons anymore. “And I can learn to do other things that you need help with! Cooking doesn’t seem that hard, and Angel already promised to show me how to do healing!”

Jack couldn’t help but smile at Rhys’s enthusiasm. “I already said you could stay. But if you want to be useful, that’s fine by me.”

“Of course I want to be useful!” said Rhys, her ears twitching. “A good wife should be useful, shouldn’t she?”

Jack blinked.

“A good  _ what?” _

The shifter smiled brightly, full of mirth and joy. Angel shared her smile, and Jack stared at them both like they’d gone mad.

“That’s how I’m going to repay you; I’m going to be your wife!”

* * *

Despite Jack’s protests, Rhys was insistent on her claim. She took on what she assumed were the “wifely” duties of a human woman. Jack herself had never been “wifely” – she was never even married to Angel’s father. What she knew of wifehood was from stories told by bitter old women or starry-eyed, idealistic maidens.

To Rhys, her definition of wifehood was largely similar. Even lacking her right arm, she helped clean, and once she took to cooking, did that as well; Jack suspected another form of magic helping her perform these tasks, but Rhys was coy and never gave her a straight answer.

She also cared for Angel, though the young girl did most of the traditional caring, teaching Rhys to read and use human tools. Still, Angel was certainly happier for Rhys’s presence; Jack rarely saw her without a smile.

It made her wonder if she was wrong to keep herself and her daughter secluded away from other people. Angel clearly loved having someone else around. Perhaps it was the simple novelty, perhaps it was because Rhys was an interesting case – or perhaps Angel was just lonely.

Jack knew of loneliness, but hers had been born of neglect and disinterest from her own family. Even Angel’s father did little to assuage it, though she’d tried desperately to keep him with her. Though it mattered little in the end. One night, he simply up and vanished, never to see his family again.

To hell with him, Jack thought, not for the first time. She hadn’t needed him to raise their daughter – she took up her bow and forged a living for them, resolving to never rely on another person again.

And then… there came Rhys. Rhys, who gave Jack a beautiful smile when she left to hunt, and again when she returned home. Rhys, who filled the hut with lovely songs, as she tended to sing when she did her chores. Rhys, who took to Angel like a fish to the water, coming to care as deeply for the girl as Jack herself did. Rhys, who looked like Jack had gifted her an entire kingdom when all she did was buy some clothes for her at the market.

After a month, Jack had grown used to Rhys calling herself Jack’s wife. She even grew used to Rhys’s warm body sleeping in her bed, her flowery, earthy scent filling their home. She also grew used to her growing attraction to the fox shifter.

Jack had been attracted to women before. It was a secret, buried part of her, one she indulged only a handful of times, and never after Angel was born. But having Rhys, a beautiful woman always near her, who called herself Jack’s  _ wife…  _ She could only resist temptation for so long.

Night had fallen when the dam finally broke. Angel was asleep in her room – their modest hut housed three rooms; the living area, Angel’s room, and Jack’s, which now also doubled as Rhys’s. Most nights, Rhys shifted into her fox form to save room on their bed, but tonight was an exception. She was in human form now, slumbering peacefully atop the covers – she didn’t like the blankets, Jack discovered.

Her ears drooped lazily as she snored, tail twitching ever slightly. Jack observed her, unable to fall asleep herself.

Rhys liked the appearance of clothes, but wearing them was another story. Even after they’d altered the dresses Jack bought for her to accommodate her tail and missing arm, she spent most days as close to naked as she could manage. Today, for example, she wore only her shift, the thin material clinging to her curves and driving Jack mad for most of the day with its almost transparent quality.

The same shift was still on her body, draping across her shapely hips and buxom chest in ways that only accentuated them. The only lighting in the room was the moonlight filtering in through the window, casting its soft glow on Rhys.

Every man in the city would want her, no doubt. Fox traits notwithstanding.

Jack, unable to help herself, reached a hand out to Rhys’s shoulder. She brushed the sleeve of her shift down, exposing creamy, lightly freckled skin. Jack’s fingers traced a path of freckles, the featherlight sensation making one of Rhys’s ears twitch. The shifter wrinkled her nose adorable, but otherwise did not stir.

The older woman bit her lip, and carefully pushed more of the shift down. The cloth barely covered the swell of Rhys’s breasts; just a bit more, and…

“Jack…?” Rhys’s sleepy voice caused Jack to jolt, retracting her hand as if burned. The fox shifter blinked blearily, until her gaze focused on Jack. “What are you doing?”

“I…” Guilt overwhelmed Jack. “N-Nothing. I’m sorry, go back to…”

Rhys smiled coyly. “Nothing?”

“Uh…”

The shifter pushed herself up, letting the top of her shift fall to pool around her waist with little care. Jack’s gaze was drawn immediately to her bare chest, and she had to force herself to look away.

“Because it felt like you were finally going to mate me.”

Jack swallowed. “You’ve... been wanting me to…?”

“I didn’t know how to bring it up,” confessed Rhys, who dipped her head in apology. “Human mating is a foreign concept to me… If you were a fox, we’d frolic together for a while before you found us a nice den, and then we’d mate until I was with child.”

The bluntness of her description made Jack frown. “Isn’t that why you left your old skulk? To avoid that?”

“To avoid it with  _ Hugo,”  _ Rhys said, sniffing with distaste. “You’re different.”

“To state the obvious,” murmured Jack. “I’m also a woman. I can’t exactly get you pregnant. That doesn’t bother you?”

At that, Rhys shrugged. “Having kits never mattered to me. Plus, I have Angel now. So no, it doesn’t.” Then the fox shifter suddenly looked unsure. “Does it… bother you? That I’m not a man?”

“No,” Jack said quickly, reaching for Rhys’s wrist. She enclosed her fingers around it, thumb softly stroking the delicate skin there. “In fact, I… quite like that you’re a woman. You’re very beautiful, Rhys.”

Rhys blushed, and her tail twitched happily. “You think so?”

“I do.” Jack lifted her other hand and brushed a brunette curl from Rhys’s face. “You really want to… mate with me?”

“Yes! More than anything! Although…” The shifter once again looked shy. “I am not certain how it works between two women…”

Jack smiled. “I’ll show you. Lie down, sweetling, and get rid of your dress.”

Rhys did so, eagerly, biting her lip in anticipation. Her shift was tossed aside, uncaring of where it landed. Jack moved to tower over her, shedding her sleep shirt and pants as she went.

Jack had her suitors, and she knew she was attractive, though not in the same way as Rhys. Still, scars littered her body from various encounters over the years, and unlike Rhys’s entirely bare body, Jack had dusting of hair here and there that she never saw fit to take care of.

Rhys evidently didn’t care. Her blush only deepened, and a happy smile graced her features as Jack positioned herself. Jack took a moment to admire her – all of her.

“Lord above, but you’re gorgeous,” she whispered. “And you’re all mine.”

She punctuated this statement by lowering her head, capturing Rhys’s lips in their first kiss. Rhys made a surprised little moan into her mouth, and Jack ate it up like the sweetest candy. She deepened the kiss, licking into Rhys’s mouth. The shifter granted her permission easily, opening like a flower, content to let Jack take full control.

As they kissed, Jack let her hands wander. One came to cup a plush breast, squeezing the mound experimentally. It earned another moan from Rhys, once again swallowed up by the kiss. The other hand trailed lower, teasing the bare skin above Rhys’s womanhood. The shifter writhed, her hand instinctively moving down to join Jack’s.

Jack broke the kiss, leaving Rhys to pant, hot breath fanning across the older woman’s face. She admired the dazed look on her wife’s face for a moment before directing her attention elsewhere. Namely, Rhys’s breasts.

“I’ve wanted to do this since the day I saw your human form,” Jack admitted. Before Rhys could ask what she meant, Jack had shuffled down her body enough to have her face level with the shifter’s chest, and without further preamble, pushed those plump breasts together and enveloped both hardened nipples in her mouth.

“O-Oh!” Rhys gasped, jolting in surprise.

Jack lifted her mouth to reprimand her. “Quiet, darling. Don’t want to wake Angel, do we?”

Arm shaking, Rhys nodded, and quickly brought her hand up to cover her mouth. She sent Jack a pleading look. Jack obliged, putting her mouth back on her wife’s glorious breasts.

She licked and sucked the pebbled nubs until they were pink and puffy. Each stroke of her tongue earned a muffled gasp or mewl from Rhys’s mouth, each sound a delight to Jack’s ears. Under their bodies, Rhys’s tail was twitching madly, though it stayed mostly in place due to her weight.

Finally, when Jack had had enough, she released the shifter’s nipples from her mouth. Her breasts heaved with her panting, though Rhys had kept her hand over her mouth.

“Wh…” The shifter’s voice came through her fingers. She lowered her hand and lifted her head to address Jack. “Why did you… suck them…? There’s no milk…”

Jack smirked. “Doesn’t have to be. Didn’t it feel good?”

Rhys nodded. “So good… Can you do it some more…?”

“Later, sweetling. For now… spread your legs. I’m going to make you feel amazing.”

Rhys obeyed, parting her creamy legs for Jack to slot between. Jack shuffled down the bed even further, until the shifter’s cunt was finally within view.

Pretty, just like the rest of her. Pink and glistening, Rhys had definitely been worked up over Jack’s treatment of her breasts.

Jack traced a finger around the outer folds, watching in fascination as Rhys quivered in response. Gingerly, the older woman slid her index finger inside her wife. Rhys’s hips jumped, bucking involuntarily, which only served to push Jack’s finger deeper inside.

Jack groaned at the tightness she felt, Rhys pulsing hot and slick around her digit. She soon added another finger, pumping them in and out of Rhys’s increasingly wet cunt. Rhys gave a muffled cry, telling Jack that she’d found a sweet spot. Smirking, she brushed that spot again, earning yet another stifled moan.

Jack’s own womanhood was growing damp, she could feel it. But before she took care of herself…

Jack removed her hand, ignoring Rhys’s whined protest. She lowered her head, breathing in her wife’s musky smell. Then, with fervor, she dove in, dining upon Rhys’s cunt like a starved man to a buffet.

It was fortunate Rhys’s hand had a vice-like grip on her mouth, because the scream that resulted from Jack’s actions forced a truly delicious scream from her throat, now thankfully muted.

Jack was rusty, true, but she pulled out every trick she could remember. She lapped at Rhys, getting her wetter before delving her tongue inside and fucking her lover with it. She sucked her hardened clit, brought her fingers back to join in, and all the while, Rhys was bucking and squirming, fighting hard to hold back her moans. She pressed her hips up against Jack’s mouth, desperate for more.

The next time they did this, thought Jack, she should ask Rhys to sit on her face.

Finally, Rhys came, squirting her juices all over Jack. Her scream that time was silent, her pleasure so overwhelming it rendered her momentarily speechless. Jack licked at her throughout, spiking her climax even further.

When she was finally finished, Rhys sagged against the bed, her hand flopping beside her. Jack licked her lips and shuffled back up the bed, delighted by the image she saw. Rhys was disheveled, her pupils blown wide and face flushed and sweaty. Drool leaked out of the corners of her mouth.

Jack patiently waited for her to recover. Rhys’s eyes refocused, and she gazed at Jack.

“That was… wow…”

Jack chuckled, dipping to give Rhys a quick kiss. “We’re not done just yet.”

Rhys swallowed. “O-Oh… Shall I… t-to you?”

The thought was enticing – but Rhys was inexperienced. There would be time to teach her how to pleasure a woman later. For now…

“Just stay there, pet,” said Jack, “and put your legs around my waist.”

Rhys did, but not without considerable effort. Her legs must’ve felt heavy as lead after such an intense orgasm.

Jack, having grown more than a bit impatient due to her ignoring her own arousal, moved quickly. She brought her own sopping wet cunt atop Rhys’s oversensitive one, and ground them together with a hard thrust. She covered Rhys’s mouth with her own, stifling the shriek that left her wife’s lips.

She kissed Rhys, hard, as she thrust their sexes together. Rhys brought her arm up around Jack’s neck, cradling her close, while Jack’s own arms moved to embrace Rhys. Their bodies were pressed tightly together as Jack continued rutting, moving faster and faster, further aroused by Rhys’s muffled sobs and soft lips against hers. She felt the fur of Rhys’s tail tickle her leg as it wagged madly, and the pressure of her breasts against Rhys’s, their nipples brushing against each other every so often.

Jack’s own climax came quickly. She nipped at Rhys’s lips and gave one final thrust, coming with a low groan murmured into Rhys’s mouth.

After a few moments – or perhaps minutes, Jack couldn’t tell – the older woman moved off her wife, collapsing beside her on the bed. They both stared up at the ceiling of the hut, in a daze.

Surprisingly, it was Rhys who moved first, maneuvering herself atop the older woman to give her a deep, but soft kiss. Jack smiled into it. When they parted, Rhys rested her head in the crook of Jack’s neck, and nuzzled into the older woman’s heated skin. Her ears tickled Jack’s chin, but Jack found she didn’t mind.

Rhys murmured something, though it was so softly Jack couldn’t decipher it. The shifter fell asleep shortly after, so she couldn’t ask. Ah, well. Jack settled comfortably into her pillows, her arms wrapped around her gorgeous, wonderful wife. She could ask Rhys in the morning.

They had the rest of their lives, after all.

* * *


End file.
